Category Archives: the fifty-year sword negative review

You can accuse an idiot of being an idiot, but this accusation will only dimly register in his primitive consciousness. He will shrug his shoulders and continue being an idiot.

This raises the question, “Why criticize idiotic books at all?” It is unlikely that a sharp-minded critic will improve a dimwitted writer. And who will do the criticizing? There are very few intelligent people left in the world, and in the country in which I reside, the United States of America, intelligence is condemned as a vice. Nevertheless, we the intelligent must band together and identify idiocy whenever we come across it, especially when idiotic books such as Mark Z. Danielewski’s The Fifty-Year Sword (2012) are praised by The Washington Post as works of literature, if for no other reason than to secure the concept of “literature” and to protect it from abuse.

The Fifty-Year Sword is undistilled swill, and it is impossible to understand how any serious person could defend such a book. I am using the word “book” somewhat glibly, since what Danielewski and Co. have given us is a collection of blank pages, drawings (stitchings, really), and limp doggerel, all stitched together.

67 of these pages are polluted with “illustrations” (for lack of a worse word).

This means that approximately 52% of the “book” is wordless: There are more blank pages and pages of imagery than pages with words on them.

And what of the words that Brother Poe stitches together? What is it like to actually read this book (such as it is)?

Reading this “book” is as pleasant as eating sand. The lines are atrociously stupid, abnormally boring, and excruciatingly illiterate. Let me pause over some of the language, since it is the most offensive thing about this intolerably mushy mishmash of bad verse, blank pages, and ugly pictures. Here are three examples:

1.) “A few times a year Mose would generously serve up booze / and sweet / to fortipify the many strangers against the expected strangeness of her minglings…” [24].

A “sentence” that was clearly “inspired” by Joyce without any of Joyce’s elegance or genius. When Joyce invented neologisms, he did so with a purpose. The awful coinage “fortipify” neither enhances nor enlivens the text.

2.) “It was even in the falling apart of the breeze (though is there a breeze / if I can still feel it on my face?)…” [110].

Here, we have a non sequitur that does not even rise to the level of a simple paradox.

3.) “Where / upon / he began to swing the handle in a wide but deliberately / slow / arc as if to pass a long blade through the wicks of those five / candles nearly six / feet away where indeed a yellow panic there, / perhaps by extraordidinary coincidence, momentarily cowered / into small rounds of blue and drowning smoke” [240].

This is the sort of verse that only a bananahead would like and respect.

And if I were a bananahead, I would find The Fifty-Year Sword impressive. In truth, Mark Z. Danielewski is not a careful writer, and he does not have a feeling for words. Blame should be also given to the seamstresses at the Atelier Z, who did a terrible job of stitching the stupid thing together.